Chapter 7
TIME HAD NEVER SLOWED before, not since she’d moved to Mystic Hollow. But today, it did.
Beth glanced at the clock on the wall and smiled.
Her shift was over, and soon, she’d be with Gael.
She should’ve been worried, or at least surprised.
They’d only spent a day and one unforgettable night together, and already, she missed him.
Not in that syrupy, heartache-y way people wrote songs about.
No, this was different. It was physical, like her personal gravity had learned a new trick and tethered itself to him.
She’d been whole before him, and she wasn’t broken without him now. The world hadn’t changed, but somehow it moved better within her.
She rinsed the last dish, hooked her apron on the peg by the kitchen door, and stepped into the pub.
She knew he was here. Not just sensed—knew, as if her body had developed a sixth sense tuned solely to him.
Her breath was already readying itself to exhale in relief.
Probably normal stuff for people newly in love, right?
She couldn’t tell, she’d never really been in love.
Not that this was love. Obviously. Not after a day.
That would be absurd.
But she felt him in a place she didn’t know existed, and somehow, it didn’t clash with reason. Her brain, usually such a buzzkill, was saying, Sure. This makes perfect sense. Carry on.
She might’ve stood there longer, trying to logic her way out of whatever this was becoming, but then she saw him.
Gael sat on the window ledge, sunlight at his back like it had been waiting all day for this one perfect moment to touch him–and couldn’t she sympathize with it?
Her hands tingle by wanting to do the same.
His ice-blue eyes met hers, and the smile that curved his lips made everything else fall away.
She flew to him.
He caught her like it was already second nature. His arms wrapped around her, strong and warm, and a soft sigh escaped his lips as he kissed her hair, then gently tipped her face up to his. His mouth brushed hers, tender. “Hello, l?oraen,” he said.
“Hello.” She rose onto her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to his lips, more to breathe him in than anything else. “Is it dumb that I missed you?”
A flash of something—relief? happiness?—lit the violet in his blue eyes. “Not in the least. I missed you, too.” He took her hand and pushed away from the window. “Are you ready to go?”
She heard the note of excitement in his voice. “Sure. Anything planned?”
“Just a little surprise. I hope you won’t mind.”
They passed the counter where Elara was wiping down glasses–or pretending to, Beth couldn’t quite tell.
The elf lifted her gaze as they passed, eyes briefly distant with some inner seeing.
Then her lips curled into a smile that looked like a blessing.
“Your auras together,” Elara said dreamily, “are the best thing. All glowing and happy. Go. Have fun.”
Beth laughed, a little flustered but warmed from the inside out. “See you tomorrow.”
They left the pub hand-in-hand, chatting as they walked through town.
The air was crisp with fall, and the sidewalk was scattered with leaves that crunched gently beneath their boots.
Their conversation wasn’t anything special—how the lake had looked that morning, something funny one of her coworkers said—but it mattered.
It mattered because it was easy.
“Alright,” Gael said when they reached the little wooden gate that led into her front yard. “Close your eyes.”
She arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said, grinning. “No peeking.”
She rolled her eyes but obeyed, amused and a little curious. The sounds shifted as he guided her by the hand around the side of the house. Gravel, then grass, under her feet told her where they were. Her pulse quickened from the strange anticipation humming just beneath her skin.
Then he stopped. “Okay,” he said, voice softer now. “Open your eyes.”
She did.
In her backyard, surrounded by the riot of her garden, was a white linen blanket laid out on a patch of grass.
Cushions waited beside a spread of cheese, fresh bread, something fizzy to drink, and tiny candles tucked safely in mason jars, already lit and glowing in the fading light.
At the center, was a roasted mushroom tart with garlic crème and honeyed squash, her absolute favorite.
She recognized it instantly as being from Tansy’s.
“I hope you’re not upset.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “How could I possibly be upset with this?”
“Because I had to get in here without you knowing. But Elara knew; I asked her what your favorite food was. She also told me to apologize for intruding. Which I am.”
“Gael,” she said, taking his hands, “I am so far removed from upset right now. This is lovely.”
His shoulders eased as happiness bloomed behind his eyes. He gestured to the blanket. “Please,” he said. “I thought it might be nice to go back to where it all started.”
“You were here last night,” she reminded him, even as she walked with him toward the blanket.
“But not in this spot. I believe the table was exactly here, and you were surrounded by flowers and fruits, and the smell of earth was all around you.”
She let out a half-laugh, half-groan. “That is the most gentlemanly way of telling me I stank, and I appreciate it.”
But he didn’t laugh. His expression was thoughtful as he looked at her. “You could’ve been a goddess of the earth, surrounded by everything the Mother gives us,” he said softly. “You were breathtaking.”
The words settled in her chest like petals as something in her shifted, a little shy. She tucked her hair behind her ear, touched and self-conscious. “Why did you come here that day?”
“Because I had to see you,” he said without hesitation. “To make sure you were alright. And... to see you.”
“I was so horrible to you.”
“Oh, you were,” he agreed with a flicker of mischief in his eyes.
“But not many people would dare get in my face like that. It was refreshing. I remember thinking how much courage it took.” Then his voice dipped, and something seductive curled into it.
“I also remember thinking how that fire would feel in other circumstances.”
Easy. It was so easy to let go into him. She couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes, and even that was too much. If she let go—of logic, of anything but this moment—she might become part of him. “I feel like I could drift into you,” she whispered, “and somehow come back more myself than before.”
His thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip, featherlight.
“You didn’t drift into me, Beth. You rooted in me.
And now everything within my soul hums with belonging to you.
” His gaze locked onto hers, darker, heated and ancient all at once.
“Something old and powerful recognized you before I had the chance to understand, and now it calls for you.” Then he bent to her neck, his lips brushing just beneath her jaw, and his voice—lord—his voice was wildfire wrapped in silk.
“My body, my soul, ache in your absence.”
Beth’s eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his lips against her skin; a shiver skimmed down her spine.
“Are you cold?” he asked, already pulling her closer, wrapping an arm around her like he could shield her from the entire oncoming season, if needed.
“A little,” she murmured, nestling into his warmth. Her head rested against his shoulder, and she sighed. “I love fall—every season, really. I just wish the flowers would last a little longer.”
Gael was quiet for a breath, then whispered, “Close your eyes.”
She tilted her head up to glance at him.
“Trust me,” he said, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Just for a second.”
So she did. Behind her closed lids, she felt a subtle shift in the air, something not from this world stirring awake. The breeze warmed, scented suddenly with wild lilac and crushed petals. A hum, faint as a heartbeat, pulsed beneath her skin.
“Open up, l?oraen.”
She did.
And gasped.
It wasn’t her garden anymore, not really.
The riot of vegetables and herbs, the stubborn lavender, the tangled tomato vines, all of it had vanished, replaced by a sun-drenched meadow that seemed to breathe with life.
Wildflowers stretched toward the sky in impossible variety: blooms she recognized from spring hikes, others she’d only seen in books, and some she was fairly certain had never existed outside a dream.
They swayed moved by a wind only they could feel.
Butterflies, sapphire, gold, and violet, drifted lazily through the air in arcs of color.
The breeze was warmer now, tinged with the scent of summer rain.
It brushed her skin like silk. She turned in place, heart pounding, eyes wide.
It wasn’t just beautiful, it was perfect.
“It’s an illusion,” she said softly, more to herself than him.
He nodded. “Your garden is still there, beneath it all. I’d never take it from you.”
“It feels real,” she whispered.
“It’s supposed to,” he said gently.
Beth reached out to touch a bloom the color of coral fire, and her fingers met the truth—air that shimmered, not petals. A little gasp escaped her lips. “Why would you do this?” she asked, her voice showing all the wonder she felt for it, for him.
Gael stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “Because you wished the flowers would last longer, and I wanted to give you a moment where they could.”
The yearn in his voice wrapped around her like a dream. There was no clever response on her tongue, no defense she could summon. She turned her face toward his, and when their eyes met again, her breath caught on the edge of a confession she wasn’t ready to name.
So she kissed him instead.
There was no urgency, no heat designed to unravel. Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in those soft, silvery strands.